Chapter 64
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She narrowed her eyes, a soft, gentle smile playing on her lips. For once, it was Windsor who faltered. The reason behind her sudden change in expression eluded him.
All he could perceive was that the metaphorical storm, which had been gathering ominously on the horizon, had dissipated into a quiet, seamless calm.
“Goodness! This is incredible! I’ve never had anything like this, Uncle!”
As Benjamin’s delighted cry rang out, the carriage lurched into motion. Windsor turned his head slowly to observe his young nephew, who was currently preoccupied with a cloud of cotton candy.
For a fleeting second, the boy’s expression softened into a look of melancholy. Windsor’s brow furrowed slightly at the sight.
Leaning toward Jacqueline, the boy whispered in a somber tone, “I don’t think I can tell Olivia or Justin about today, Miss Somerset.”
“And why is that?”
“You’ve always told me that how one says something matters more than the words themselves. I’m afraid I couldn’t tell them without sounding like I’m bragging. It’s probably better if I just keep it to myself, don’t you think?”
Jacqueline’s eyes widened in brief astonishment before crinkling into a warm smile. She found herself marveling at the boy’s seemingly bottomless well of sweetness.
Benjamin took another bite of the sugary treat, his eyes fluttering shut in pure contentment. Windsor watched the scene, lost in thought.
His nephew looked as though he had inherited the world, all because of a single stick of spun sugar—a level of genuine joy Windsor hadn’t witnessed in two years.
It was almost comical to him that a child destined to command the vast Preston fortune and carry such a storied name could be so thoroughly captivated by something as trivial as cotton candy.
Windsor found the notion absurd, perhaps even a bit foolish. Yet, he couldn’t deny that the sight left him with a strange sense of peace.
Across the carriage, a soft voice broke the silence.
“The memory of today will serve as a shield for Benjamin in the years to come.”
Windsor gave a curt nod, as if he had been expecting those very words. Perhaps he wasn’t the one who had chased away the clouds after all—perhaps it was Benjamin.
The boy was a sun in his own right, sharing that radiant quality with Jacqueline Somerset and Evan Knox.
Like the relentless sun of midsummer, he would never truly fade; he would continue to light up the world, earning the admiration of all who saw him.
A sudden, quiet sigh of relief escaped Windsor. He felt a profound sense of gratitude that his nephew had not inherited the darkness that shadowed his own life.
He turned his gaze toward the window, watching the streets pass by in the golden glow of early summer. Though he could feel her eyes lingering on him, he refused to turn back.
He had no desire for her to see his shadow today.
The stone mansion appeared formidable and rigid at first glance, but as the afternoon sun hit the walls at an angle, the stone took on a soft, inviting beige tone.
The gardens, maintained with surgical precision by the estate’s staff, were currently a riot of spring color. The Chamberlain estate was a testament to perfection, regardless of the season.
“Welcome, Lord Preston. Her Ladyship, the Dowager, is expecting your arrival.”
The Chamberlain butler greeted him with practiced, somber grace. Windsor offered a brief nod and stepped into the grand hall.
“The Dowager Lady is waiting in the sitting room.”
Windsor’s pace slowed for a fraction of a second. Being invited to the sitting room rather than a formal parlor was a significant shift; it signaled a newfound level of intimacy in their acquaintance.
“…Lead the way, then.”
“At once, my lord.”
Upon entering the room, he found the Dowager Lady Chamberlain setting aside her porcelain teacup. She greeted him with a genuine, welcoming smile.
“It has been quite some time.”
His greeting was characteristically blunt, yet it only seemed to broaden her smile. He offered no empty flattery—no hollow compliments about her beauty or the honor of her company—but his directness was a quality she clearly appreciated.
She offered her hand, and Windsor pressed a brief kiss to her knuckles before presenting the bouquet he had brought.
“Oh, my…”
Her expression became unreadable as she took the flowers from him.
“Hydrangeas.”
Windsor didn’t offer an explanation; he simply moved to his designated chair and sat down. She inhaled the light scent of the blooms before fixing him with a scrutinizing look.
“Are you aware of the meaning these flowers carry?”
“I have been told they represent coldness and a certain fickleness of heart.”
“You are well-informed. And yet, you chose to give them to me regardless? One should exercise great caution when gifting flowers, Lord Preston.”
Looking at the vibrant blue petals, Windsor’s mind drifted back to the moment Jacqueline had hurried toward him just as he was preparing to leave.
—“I understand you are visiting the Dowager Lady. Surely you wouldn’t dream of arriving without a gift?”
He hadn’t intended to go empty-handed. Olivia had been at his estate, and she and Benjamin had been deeply occupied with some project near the greenhouse.
Jacqueline had been there as well, acting as their self-appointed guardian.
Windsor hadn’t bothered to ask what the children were doing under the almond tree, though he could guess. That gesture alone was a significant gift for Olivia.
Furthermore, he had arranged for cotton candy as a treat. Olivia would undoubtedly return home and regale her grandmother with every detail of her day, her face lit with excitement.
To the Dowager Lady, there could be no more precious gift than her granddaughter’s happiness. It was in that moment that Jacqueline had pressed the hydrangeas into his hands.
—“She will treasure them. On the day the late Duke met her for the second time, he gave her hydrangeas.”
—“Did he?”
Windsor had looked at Jacqueline then with a renewed sense of curiosity. It was moments like these that reminded him of her high-born origins.
She possessed knowledge of the Dowager’s most private preferences—details that even Evan Knox was likely ignorant of. It made her feel, momentarily, like someone from a world far removed from his own.
He looked down, realizing that despite their physical proximity, a vast distance seemed to stretch between them.
—“Do you know what they symbolize?”
Jacqueline had flashed him a mischievous grin. Windsor had no desire to disturb the rare, fragile peace that had settled between them.
Lately, their interactions had felt like a succession of cold skirmishes, with only brief, tense truces to break the conflict.
He watched her, his voice dropping to a low rumble. —“Well?”
—“‘Coldness’… and ‘fickleness.’”
Windsor’s brow had twitched in annoyance. Jacqueline let out a bright laugh, clearly having anticipated his irritation.
Her eyes crinkled, and her mouth curved into a beautiful arc. Windsor found himself momentarily transfixed by her joy.
—“The Dowager told me she was furious at first! Imagine—hydrangeas on a second meeting! Flowers that mean ‘coldness’! She thought the Duke was insulting her for how their first meeting went. But when he learned what they meant, his face turned bright red. That legendary, stoic man was completely flustered!”
—“I see.”
Windsor had nodded politely. A bird chirped nearby as Jacqueline continued her story with animated energy.
The sun was surprisingly intense for midday, and the breeze caught the brim of her straw hat, flipping it back against her neck. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat.
Without thinking, Windsor reached out and adjusted the hat, setting it straight on her head.
—“Oh… thank you, Lord Preston.”
Her blush deepened. Windsor shifted his stance, casting her face into the cool safety of his shadow.
Jacqueline looked down, her fingers fidgeting nervously. Windsor watched her for a beat before prompting her to continue.
—“And then?”
—“Oh! Right… well, the Duke realized he had been entirely ignorant of the flower’s meaning. The Dowager forgave him, of course. And because of that memory, hydrangeas became her favorite flower.”
—“I understand.”
—“Perhaps I, too…”
Windsor had waited for her to finish, but the thought remained unspoken, swallowed back into silence.
That unfinished sentence often returned to haunt him, leaving him with a lingering sense of frustration. What had she intended to say?
Shaking off the memory, Windsor looked back at the Dowager Lady and spoke with his usual composure.
“I intended to bring a flower of significance for our second meeting, my lady.”
“So, you are familiar with the history between Gregory and me.”
She looked down at the blue petals with a fond, wistful smile. It was clear that Jacqueline’s insight had hit its mark.
“As the years pass, I find I miss him more with every day. Thank you for this reminder of him, Lord Preston.”
“The pleasure is mine, my lady.”
The Dowager Lady raised her eyes, her gaze sharpening with a playful, almost girlish glint.
“However, I suspect such a thoughtful gesture was not entirely your own invention. Forgive me—I only mean that you, much like my Gregory, strike me as the sort of man who wouldn’t trouble himself with the language of flowers.”
“You are not mistaken.”
Since her assessment was accurate, Windsor saw no reason to take offense.
As he expected, the Dowager’s eyes crinkled with mirth, the fine lines around them softening her regal features.
“Was this the work of Miss Somerset?”
“It was.”
“Ho ho ho.”
She let out a soft, melodic laugh, looking back at the hydrangeas. Her tone turned nostalgic.
“I met her several times when she was a mere child. She would come to visit, clutching the Countess of Somerset’s hand. She was an enchanting little thing.”
She paused, her gaze turning serious as she looked at Windsor.
“I heard she has endured many trials, but I was too preoccupied with my own life to step in. Tell me, has she grown into as remarkable a woman as she was a girl?”
“…She has.”
The Dowager’s eyes widened slightly at his response—perhaps surprised by the answer itself, or perhaps by the look that crossed his face as he gave it.
It made her think of her late husband once more. Gregory had been the pillar of the Chamberlain line, a Duke, and a leader of the Council.
He had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, performing his duties with a grace that few could match.
And yet, on rare occasions—
He would look utterly vulnerable and clumsy, and it was always in the presence of his wife.
Whenever she was cross, or cold, or when she wept over some small thing, Gregory would look completely out of his depth—a far cry from the powerful man the world knew.
He looked exactly as Windsor Preston did in this moment.
The Dowager Lady watched him with a gentle, knowing warmth.
“You haven’t forgotten the advice I gave you, have you?”
“You told me not to be guarded with my emotions.”
“Good. You have a memory for the important things.”
She spoke with a relaxed air. A maid entered quietly, took the bouquet, and retreated.
There was little doubt those hydrangeas would soon take a place of honor in the Dowager’s private quarters.
“Now then—why have you come today? Olivia is currently enjoying your hospitality, and I have been given a gift that has brought back many fond memories. Surely there is a price for such kindness? Is this regarding the trial?”
